Steady Like the Waves
by InaLndofMyth
Summary: After falling into Tartarus (the hole, not the fish sauce), Percy and Annabeth must begin their long journey to the path of recovery. Little did they know how long and difficult that path would truly be.


Percy Jackson couldn't remember why or what had woken him up at two forty-five am. He laid on his bunk in the darkness of cabin three, listening to the crashing of the waves off Long Island Sound, the nymphs laughing in the trees of the forest, and the naiads playing in the canoe lake. If Percy strained enough, he could hear the snorts and whinnies of the pegasi in the stables and the occasional puffs from Peleus the dragon up on Half-Blood Hill.

All of these things Percy was quite aware of; baring the curse of Achilles for even a few months improved his hearing, sight and memory; but the natural sounds of Camp Half-Blood shouldn't have been the reason Percy was awake. He was naturally a deep sleeper, so why was he up at two in the morning?

Percy sighed in frustration. He rolled over and punched his pillow into a more preferred shape. Tomorrow held serious bone aching, body sweating training in store, along with school work Goode High and Paul had thrown at him at the start of the summer and some long, hot, grueling hours of helping to rebuild camp where Gaea's giants managed to do damage.

Percy flopped onto his back and stared blankly at the bottom of the top bunk. He ran a hand through his raven black hair, his fingers catching irritably on a knot. Ouch. He sighed. Why couldn't he just fall back als—

A bone chilling, blood curling scream pierced the night. Percy bolted upright in his bed.

Annabeth.

He would recognize her voice anywhere, anytime.

Percy ripped the green covers off his legs and immediately sprung out of bed, bumping his head on the top bunk in the process. He jammed on his sneakers, threw on his hoodie, slipped Riptide in his pocket and bolted out the door.

Within seconds Percy was at cabin six's porch, barely giving a second thought that he was panting as he raised his hand to bang on the door. He ended up not needing to; Annabeth's male replica yanked open the gray door as if sensing Percy was there on the other side and mutely moved aside, allowing the son of Poseidon entrance.

Percy past Malcom Pace and darted inside the dark cabin. The curtains hung up fluttered like white butterfly wings in the gust of air Malcom had created. Percy paid no attention to the workshop and library that consisted of the majority of Athena's cabin—he was too busy rushing over to the sleeping quarters, a certain blonde girl in mind.

"She's right over—oh, well, uh. . . ." Malcom trailed off as Percy ran over to Annabeth Chase's bunk.

Percy had long known where Annabeth slept in cabin six—he was, after all, practically a weekly visitor. He knelt by her bunk and watched as she thrashed around in her sleep.

"How long?" Percy asked. He noticed her face was flustered pink and dampened with sweat.

"Just started," Malcom said. The entire Athena cabin was wide awake now, watching Percy with sleepy eyes. They were all too familiar with the son of the sea god barging into their cabin at odd hours to wake Annabeth from her nightmares of the past to react confused or alarmed.

"Hey," Percy said gently, hesitant to touch her. Last time he attempted contact while she was asleep, he earned himself a black eye and painfully sore somewhere else. "Wise Girl, wake up."

The daughter of Athena whimpered and kicked her legs, catching them in her sheets. "No!" she cried, tears spilling from beneath her eyelids and trickling down her cheeks. "No. No more. Please, I can't!"

Her fingers curled into a fist on her left hand; with the right she skimmed the bed—reaching, searching, grappling, grasping for something.

"Annabeth it's only a dream. Nothing else. A dream . . . Which is a figment of your imagination. You told me that. Listen to me. It's me, Percy, your b—"

"CUT IT! NO!" A few kids stifled startled gasps at the loud and sudden scream. Annabeth arched off the bed. "NO—IT'S TOO LATE—LET GO—YOU CAN'T—"

Percy touched her arm, causing Annabeth to start spasming wildly; she kicked her legs and flailed around like a mental person. Percy climbed on the bed, wary of her thrashing limbs, straddled her middle and held her wrists down with his hands.

He leaned down and whispered in her ear repeatedly; "We're out, we survived, we made it—we won't ever have to go through that hell again. We're alive, we're free, we closed the Doors. We're safe, I've got you, and I'm never letting you go again."

Gradually, the daughter of the wisdom goddess began to calm; slowly her muscles became less tense and she ceased her flailing around. Finally, after what seemed like eternity, she opened her eyes.

"Wha—what?" she mumbled, blinking disoriented. She glanced around; they could all see realization flare in her gray eyes as she took in Percy hovering above her and her siblings shooting looks of concern from their bunks.

She said warily, "Another one?" Percy nodded and scooted backwards so he wasn't crushing her with his weight.

"C'mon guys, let's give them space," Malcom said and lead the children of Athena to their library.

Annabeth didn't realize she was shivering until Percy offered her his hoodie. She gratefully accepted it and the two sat in silence; Percy patiently waiting for her to speak and Annabeth desperately trying not to think about her real-life-like-dream.

"What was it about?"

Annabeth glanced at him. His voice had startled her.

"I . . . I don't really remember," she croaked, recalling a perfect image of Athena's arch rival spinning her wicked web which dragged Annabeth and then Percy in the hellish pit of Tartarus.

Percy shot her a pointed look. He didn't buy her lie one bit. Sometimes it was frustrating for her that Percy know her so well—Annabeth could never lie to him and get away with it; he knew whenever something or someone bothered her; when she was feeling down, sad, angry or frustrated; and Percy especially knew her when it concerned Tartarus. After all, he was the only other person who went through that experience with her.

Annabeth sighed. "Arachne," she muttered and Percy instantly understood.

Children of Athena had serious arachnophobia and the fact that their goddess mom was enemies with the mother of spiders wasn't a good thing running for Annabeth and her siblings. And on top of all that, the whole thing that transpired between Annabeth and the mistress of weaving with the Athena Parthenos which cause Annabeth and Percy's fall to Tartarus just made things worse between Athena's daughter and the eight legged bugs—day to day and in the world of dreams.

Percy's fingers brushed her's in the dark. He didn't say anything; he simply sat there holding her hand, and for that Annabeth was grateful—knowing someone was there for comfort and strength was something words couldn't possibly compare to.

When Malcom returned to the bunks, what he found made him smile. The two were deeply asleep on the bed, with Percy's hand intertwined with Annabeth's.

The children of Athena opted to leave the two sleeping 'till the morning—they both earned the well deserved rest.

"Seaweed Brain?" Percy looked up to find Annabeth standing in the doorway to the Poseidon cabin. She wore her hair long—it flowed off her shoulders like a blonde waterfall—her regular jean shorts and a Camp Half-Blood t-shirt.

"Hey," Percy said as he searched for a clean, sweat-free orange shirt. Sword practice had been rough and daunting beneath the hot sun.

"Want to take a walk with me?"

Percy smiled. "Of course." He found a shirt and went into the bathroom to change. He raised his voice so he could be heard through the wall. "Where do you suggest? Maybe the woods? It's nice and cooler in the shade."

"I was thinking the beach."

Percy poked his head out gave her a thumbs up. "Sounds like a plan."

Ten minutes later found the two sitting on Fireworks Beach. Percy inhaled the lemony scent of Annabeth's shampoo as he fought the drowsiness that threatened to close his eyes. Today was draining and there was still more to come—he could greatly use the extra hour of sleep he lost last night. But even so, Percy sighed contently. He could lay there all day with Annabeth in his arms, the sound and sight of the ocean in front of him and the knowledge that everything was alright in that singular moment. But then a thought occurred suddenly.

"What is it?" He felt Annabeth's chest vibrating against his own. She could read him like an open book.

"What? Nothing, nothing. . . ."

"Whatever it is, it isn't nothing," Annabeth replied.

Percy thought for a moment. "It's just . . . When I woke up last night, for what I thought was for no apparent reason . . ."

"Go on."

Percy looked down at her thoughtfully, his green eyes searching her's. "Well I wasn't awake for no apparent reason. I happen to hear you scream just in time. I might be wrong, but I think I was meant to be awake so I could hear you."

Annabeth blushed; she wasn't proud of the nightly incident. It was rather embarrassing, really, to have to be woken by your boyfriend from something silly and mundane as a nightmare. She felt weak—and she hated it.

Percy, ever the observer, said, "Hey, it isn't your fault we—"

"I know it isn't!" Annabeth snapped, and then immediately felt guilty for doing so. Here was Percy; sweet, loyal, Percy; he was trying to be supportive and all he received was his head getting bitten off.

"I'm sorry."

She stared blankly at the waves. They crawled their way to shore, withdrew, curled and then broke into foam. Over and over and over again. It amazed Annabeth how something as simple as a wave could maintain its steadiness as everything around it went to hell. Those waves were a symbolism of strength, of pushing forward, of fighting and resilience. They were something Annabeth longed to be—as steady as the waves—even though she couldn't. Annabeth's blood consisted of both god and mortal, and even though Athena's blood gave her a bigger boast then she wouldn't have had without it, all demigods had their limits and their weaknesses.

Tartarus just happened to be Annabeth's breaking point.

A hand on her chin drew her from her thoughts. Percy gently guided her face so that she was looking at him, and he cupped her cheek with his hand. He gave her the sweetest kiss, and she knew she was forgiven before he reassured her that, "it's alright".

"I love you Wise Girl."

"I love you too, Seaweed Brain."


End file.
